Page 16 of The Mobster’s Daughter (Massachusetts Mafia #2)

Caitlin

T he next day, they ate breakfast at the same diner where Grady picked up dinner. Caitlin had pancakes, surprised at how good they were. He had one egg, a slice of sourdough bread, and drank four or five cups of black coffee. She l ost count.

She assumed they would head for Worcester after breakfast, but they returned to the motel. Grady turned on a football game and made himself co mfortable.

“Would you please sit down?” he muttered after ten minutes of her pacing the room and shooting glares in his direction.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” she asked.

“We’re not meeting Dante until after dark,” he replied. “We have to wait.”

Caitlin sighed and dropped onto the bed. “What am I supposed to do un til then?”

Grady glared at her. “You’re a grown woman, Cait. You should be able to entertain yourself for a f ew hours.”

She laid down. “I’m sick of being c ooped up.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Don’t you think I feel the same way? Especially with an insol ent brat.”

“Funny, you don’t think I’m an insolent brat when you’re fucking me,” sh e snapped.

“Don’t try to get a rise out of me,” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood to fight with you.”

That was exactly what she was trying to do—get a rise out of him.

Fighting with Grady turned her on. If she could drag him into an argument, maybe she could get him to have sex with her.

She stretched out on the bed and put her arm over her eyes.

Her mind drifted as she listened to the football game in the b ackground.

“How do you think they found us in Sharon?” she asked. “It wasn’t our phones; we got rid of them. Was it somebody who works for my father? I can’t imagine anyone daring to defy him like that. It’s a death sentence.”

“You’re damn right it’s a death sentence,” Grady muttered. “I’ll fucking kill hi m myself.”

Caitlin barely heard him. The wheels in her head were turning. “You know, I’m positive Moretti didn’t have anything to do with Bobby’s death. Bobby never told me who his father was, but he always hinted that they had a good relationship. Why would Moretti have his goons ki ll Bobby?”

The volume on the television went down. “What are you ge tting at?”

“What if Joey and Gino killed Bobby on their own? Without Aldo knowing? Is that a pos sibility?”

Grady snorted. “Not unless they have a death wish. That’s Moretti’s kid. Why would they intentionally put themselves in danger like that?” He sat up. “Hey, do you have Finn’ s number?”

“I think so,” she replied. “I have an address book on my laptop in my backp ack. Why?”

“He mentioned he knew a couple of guys in the Moretti family,” he said. “We heard something was going down, but not what. Maybe this has something to do w ith that.”

Caitlin climbed off the bed, opened her laptop, and sat back down. It was almost dead, but she had enough power to get Finn’s phone number for Grady. He dialed, put the phone on speaker, and set it bet ween them.

“Finn Duffy,” her cousin answered.

She wanted to answer, but Grady gave her a look that silenced her. She crossed her arms and glar ed at him.

“Finn, it ’s Grady.”

“Jesus, I am glad to hear from you. How’s Caitlin?”

Grady nodd ed at her.

“I’m good,” she said. “Tired of running, but no injuries.”

“Thank God,” Finn replied. “Your father is worried sick about you. I’ll let him know w e talked.”

“Have you heard anything out of New York?” Grady in terjected.

“Yeah, I have. Hold on.” A door closed in the background, then Finn was back on the phone.

“My buddy, Matt, works on the fringes of the Moretti family. He said there was a major shakeup a few weeks ago. Apparently, Joey LaGuardia and Aldo had some kind of falling out. Joey accused Aldo of shorting him the payment on some drug deal and Aldo went ballistic. Sounds like he told Joey if he didn’t like the way Aldo was running things, he could leave.

And Joey did. Took a couple of guys with him, most notably Gino and Fredo, two of Aldo’s best enforcers.

According to Matt, it’s a fucking mess ov er there. ”

“Joey and Gino killed Bobby,” Cai tlin said.

“That’s what Uncle Sean said,” Finn added.

“But he can’t get through to Aldo, or anybody in the Moretti family, for that matter.

They’ve gone dark on us. If we could get the word to Aldo that it was Joey and Gino, then Moretti might call off the dogs.

Uncle Sean sent Declan to New York yesterday to see if he could meet Moretti.

We haven’t heard from Declan since the je t landed. ”

Grady sighed and ran his hand through his hai r. “Shit.”

“Shit is right,” Finn muttered. “Olivia is frea king out.”

“I thought you were going with him,” G rady said.

“I was, but at the last minute, Uncle Sean asked me to stay here,” Finn explained. “He didn’t want both of us to go.”

Caitlin grabbed Grady’s arm. “We have to go back to New York. I’ll go to Moretti, tell him I didn’t do it, tell him it was Joey and Gino. Jesus, if anything happens to Declan, Olivia will be heartbroken. We can help.”

Both Grady and Finn shou ted, “No!”

“You can’t do that, Caitlin,” Finn yelled through the phone. “Moretti will kill you the minute he sees you.”

Grady took her hand and squeezed it. His eyes were wide, and he shook his head. She slumped onto the bed and tried not to scream. Dammit, she could help, but the macho assholes wouldn’ t let her.

“Declan will take care of it, Cait,” Finn said.

Grady snatched his phone off and stalked out the door, slamming it behind him. Caitlin wanted to punch something.

Ten minutes later, he returned.

“Well?” she asked.

“I’ll check in with Finn later today,” he said. “We’re sticking with the plan. We’ll go to Worcester tonight and hole up until Declan talks to Moretti.”

She sighed; there was no use arguing with him. She wouldn’t win. “Okay,” she whispered.

He must have expected her to argue, because he gave her an odd look, then he returned to the chair, put his feet up, and turned up the volume on the t elevision.

Grady shook her awake a little after eleven and told her it was time to leave the motel.

She gathered her meager belongings and followed him to the Bronco.

Earlier in the day, he had disappeared for almost three hours and when he came back, the window in the back had been replaced.

She climbed into the SUV, turned on the radio, and flipped through the stations until she found one playing music that wasn’t forty years old.

Grady’s jaw clenched and a muscle in his cheek twitched, but she pretended she didn’t see it.

She turned the radio up, crossed her arms, and stared out t he window.

Less than an hour later, they turned onto Salisbury Street. To her right was an enormous park. Grady pulled off the road and stopped under some trees. He rested his forearms on the steering wheel as he looked out the front w indshield.

“Where the hell is he?” he muttered under his breath. He killed the engine. The music cut off in the middle of a Beyonce song. Grady picked up the phone in the cup holder and hit a button. She was close enough she could hear the man on the other end of the line when he answered.

“We’re here, ” he said.

Caitlin heard the other guy tell Grady to watch for a white Ford pickup to arrive in the next ten minutes. He promised to be ready and ended the call.

He reached under the seat and grabbed his gun. “Wait here,” he ordered before he opened the door and sl ipped out.

She took her gun out of the glove compartment and rested it on her leg.

Caitlin kept the safety on and was careful to keep her finger off the trigger.

The back of the Bronco opened, and Grady rummaged around, then he slammed it closed.

He tossed a duffle bag on the backseat before he got in the front.

Caitlin didn’t bother to strike up a conversation. It was obvious he was on edge, making small talk an impossibility. He stared out the window while she wa tched him.

Ten minutes after he hung up, a white truck pulled up beside them and stopped. Grady rolled his wi ndow down.

“Ready?” som eone said.

Caitlin tried to get a look at him, but he wore a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes, a long-sleeve shirt, and gloves. His voice was deep and gruff.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Grady glared at her, which immediately silenced her.

She shut her mouth, crossed her arms, and glared at the back of his head.

A chill washed over her. In the rush to leave the cabin, they’d left everything behind.

The thin T-shirt she wore did nothing to keep her warm and the open window made the Bronco’s heater worthless.

Grady stepped out of the Bronco to speak to the driver of the truck. After a few minutes, he got back in, started the SUV, and made a U-turn to follow the pickup as it drove toward the freeway.

They went north on Interstate 190. They weren’t taking her home to Weston. She itched to ask where they were going, but she knew he would glare at her again, so she didn ’t bother.

Thirty minutes later, after a slow drive through the small town of Lancaster and a trip several miles down a secluded road, they followed the truck down a dirt road and parked in front of a two-story farmhouse.

Grady shut off the engine, jumped out, and went around the front of the Bronco. He took Caitlin’s elbow, helped her out, then he led her inside. Over her shoulder, she noticed the truck moving toward a large barn about a hundred yards from the farmhouse.

She shook her head. As far as she was concerned, all this subterfuge was unnecessary. They’d left the people chasing them behind in Sharon, so they should be able to breat he easier.

As soon as they were inside, Caitlin yanked her arm free of Grady’s tight grip and stepped away from him.

“Stop pushing me around like some kind of prisoner,” sh e snapped.

Grady clenched his jaw and walked away from her.